Welcome to My Pity Party

So the Big Birthday Bash is coming up this weekend. Yeah, the countdown has been over there in the right column for a long time. I was looking forward to it for a long time. It was gonna be raw (as N would say).

Then came the news of the possible layoff in the future. The future is very uncertain. Well, that ain’t a time to be going out and frivolously spending money on caterers and DJs and what not for a big ole’ birthday party. No indeed. So I changed plans – radically. Changed it up to a casual afternoon get together in my backyard. A few snacks. A few drinks. A birthday cake. And tons of people. I really, really wanted tons of people to celebrate with me.

Then reality came crashing down on me. One by one I found out that people couldn’t come. Oh they have reasons. They have very legitimate reasons so I can’t even be pissed off about it. Except I am. Well, not really pissed off, just bummed. I had hoped that certain people would be able to come, and I knew that some wouldn’t be able to. That’s just the way things go you know. Not everybody can make it on a given day, at a given time. That’s okay. It is. I’m disappointed, but I understand. From that standpoint it’s okay.

But here is what is not okay. Of all the very many, numerous people I invited on a social media site that shall remain nameless, the majority have not responded at all. Not a yes. Not a no thank you. Not even a maybe. Just no response at all. Really people? Really? You can’t take the two seconds it takes to pick a button on the event page and click on it? REALLY? Are that many of my friends really that jackassy that they won’t even respond to an invitation that doesn’t even require a stamp or a trip to the mailbox? REALLY?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

To all the people who responded YES (mostly just the people who already live in my house and will be there anyway): Thank you. I’m so glad you’re attending. I hope you enjoy the party. Luv ya’.

To all the people who responded NO: I’m so sorry you can’t come, but I do understand. Thanks for letting me know, and hopefully we can get together another time. Luv ya’.

To all the people who responded MAYBE: Thanks for wanting to come. I hope you can fit it into your plans, but I understand we all have busy lives and can’t do everything. Luv ya’.

To all the people who didn’t bother to respond at all: FUCK YOU. Fuck you and your entire family and everyone you know. I shall not be inviting you to any future events because you are a rude, stuck up asshole who doesn’t deserve the company of a fine person such as myself.

Okay, that’s what I want to say IRL but can’t so I share it here with you imaginary internet friends. And if any of you want to come to my party this Saturday let me know how to contact you, and I’ll send you the particulars.

And just for what it’s worth, the friends I’ve made IRL through my blog and who I invited via social media? They responded to my invitation. Oh yes they did. Because they are kind wonderful people. You know who you are. Luv ya’.

All's Well That Ends Well

So. . .

We had lunch.
We talked about old times.
We caught up on 32 years.
He apologized for some hurtful things he said after our breakup oh so long ago.
I accepted his apology and felt a flood of emotion that rose unbidden in me.

I had hurt from his words for so very many years. They stung me for years. I even believed them for a very long time. His apology meant the world to me, set me free from one set of demons that have haunted me for years.

We hugged and parted friends, good friends who share a history with one another.

And he is a good man, a stand up guy, even better than I thought.

Best lunch ever.

Getting Old ≠ Growing Up

So I started talking about him here a long time ago. Then a couple of months ago this happened. And I just let it lay there without follow up of any kind.

Now we are to this week, the week that I turn 50. The week I reach a half century of experience and, one would hope, wisdom.

And now. . .
this week. . .
on my very birthday in fact. . .
he is having lunch with me. . .
at his invitation. . .
without any nudging from me. . .

He just happens to be coming through town he says.
Wonders if I’d like to have coffee or lunch with him he says.
Of course I would like that I say.
What perfect timing I say.
I’m taking the day off for my birthday and have no plans other than to sleep late and goof off I say.

We say all of this via Facebook messages. Not out in the open on Facebook, but the private message part of Facebook. So nobody necessarily knows but us. And now you.

And you know what? It is all nothing. Just two old friends (one of whom just happens to still be somewhat in love with the other but what of it) getting together for lunch to talk about old times. That’s it. That’s all. Really.

And who knows? He may have his wife with him. He hasn’t said he will. He hasn’t said he won’t. He hasn’t really mentioned her at all.

And you know what the truth of the matter is? If there is anything, absolutely anything, that is hinted at from him beyond two old friends having lunch to chat about old times, then I will KNOW, absolutely know, 100% beyond all doubt, that I am the worst judge of character in the entire world and wouldn’t know a stand up guy if I tripped over him. Because I absolutely, positively believe that he is a man of character, a man of high moral fiber, a man different from other men I’ve loved. When it comes right down to it, as much as it would thrill me if there was still a connection there, it would disappoint me just as much. I want him to be the proof for me that there are decent guys out there.

Why Life Sucks

Wouldn't you just know it? About the time I get sort of comfy somewhere along comes the big surprise. And the surprise is never good. The surprise always sucks the air right out of ya'.

Recently it was announced that my employer has lost its largest contract. This will mean layoffs. No details have yet been announced. But hec, I can put the pieces together and see that my position is in seriopus jeapordy given that at my level I have least seniority.

So hooray for me. Almost 50 and almost unemployed.

At least I'll have more time for blogging if I lose my job. Right?